


Steel and Shattered Glass

by galaxyroadtrips



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 22:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17455697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyroadtrips/pseuds/galaxyroadtrips
Summary: He comes back on Titan, surrounded by dust and silence and a voice that he remembers.---Peter, Tony, and finding strength when everything’s fallen to pieces.(Post-Infinity War, Endgame speculation)





	Steel and Shattered Glass

He opens his eyes and drowns in the sky.

Blue and orange, like a New York sunset. It’s quiet. Dust hangs in the air, traced in fiery light. Peter blinks.

When he breathes out, he feels something solid against his spine, and realizes he’s lying on the ground. Gravel digs into the back of his head, and he shifts, wincing.

There’s a shadow bending over him, blocking out the sky. Peter squints. A face comes into focus, then a pair of brown eyes, and something about the way they glisten calls out through the fog in Peter’s brain.

The person gasps a breath. “Pete?”

_Pete_. Memory splashes across his mind. Stars. Space. Clinging to cold metal, screaming through the sky. Gasping for air. Broken planets, broken people. He’s breaking. He’s crumbling. _Please_.

Electric terror claws at his stomach, and then he’s gasping for breath that won’t come, because he _remembers_.

A hand applies gentle pressure between his shoulder blades. “Peter. Peter, shh.” The voice is shaking. So is the hand supporting his back, or maybe Peter’s the one shaking, or maybe it’s both. Another hand curls around Peter’s fingers, and he cranes his neck to look at it, to make sure what he’s feeling is real. “Breathe. In and out.”

And Peter knows the voice, knows who it belongs to and what it means that he’s hearing it, but his blood still feels like ice, so he lets his gaze travel from the hand holding his to the eyes that he recognizes, haunted and heavy with hope.

Tony’s eyelids fall shut as he heaves a shuddering sigh. The dust and silence hang in the air between them, just for a moment, before he opens his eyes again. They shine in the dying light. “Hi, kid.” He sounds close to tears. “You’re okay.”

Peter braces his forearms against the ground, trying to sit up. He almost manages it, but everything is still too much, the sky and the earth and the dust and the weight of what’s happened. Tony catches him as he collapses.

It feels like before, like falling apart in the wind.

Tony adjusts his arm around Peter’s shoulders. Then his eyes glisten again, and he sets his jaw, and his expression makes Peter think of steel and shattered glass.

And Peter’s not sure how it happens, exactly, but then he’s holding onto Tony for dear life, pressing his face into Tony’s shoulder, shaking all over. Tony rocks him back and forth, murmuring reassurances that break off into watery gasps and sniffles.

They stay like that until Peter calms down a little, more from exhaustion than anything else. When he lifts his head from Tony’s shoulder, he sees that he’s smeared tears all over his shirt. “Ugh.” He wipes it with one hand. The red metal of the Iron Spider suit catches the light. “Sorry.”

“Kid, no.” Tony pulls back and rests a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s okay.” Peter watches him wipe his eyes. They lapse into silence again, and Peter feels like he should fill it with something, but he just doesn’t know what the hell there is to say.

“God, Pete.” Tony wraps his arms around Peter again and holds him tight for another moment. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Then he lets Peter go and tips his head back, blinking hard and breathing slow. “I just…”

His voice breaks, and Peter’s never seen Tony so close to falling apart. “’s not your fault,” Peter whispers, and he wants so badly to tell him it’ll be okay, to say something that’ll fix it, fix them, but he can’t stop remembering what it felt like to crumble into pieces.

So they sit in the dust and dying sunlight, and Peter’s throat goes so tight it aches.

 

As the _Benatar_ blasts through Titan’s atmosphere, Peter and Tony sit next to each other, watching the colors of the sky fade to stars.

Peter can just barely make out the Guardians’ subdued whispers from the bridge. Strange disappeared into a back room just before takeoff, eyes dark, and hasn’t come out since. The two of them are alone.

The silence hurts just a little too much, so Peter lets his question bubble to the surface.

“Mr. Stark?” It feels wrong, somehow, to ask, but he can’t stand not knowing. “Are we…are we going after Thanos?”

“What?” Tony’s voice cuts off the end of Peter’s sentence. “God, kid, no.” His eyes meet Peter’s for the first time since takeoff. “The Avengers, we - we got him.”

“Wh – you did?” Everything feels surreal, like Peter’s deep in a dream. “You mean he’s…”

“The son of a bitch is dead.” There’s something unsettling about the way the shadows fall across Tony’s face. “We tracked him down. Blew him to kingdom come.” His knuckles are white on the armrest of his chair. “Well, technically, Thor finished him off. He’s got this new mystical axe, or whatever. Really something. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Peter’s still stuck on the first part. “He’s dead.”

Tony’s eyes soften. “Yeah, kid. He’s gone. We’re going home.”

Peter lets his head fall back against the seat and shuts his eyes, just for a moment. When he opens them, Tony’s looking at him again, and Peter hopes his shaky relief isn’t showing too much on his face. He’s Spider-Man. He’s stronger than this.

So he shifts in his seat, rests his head on one fist, and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Man. I’m gonna have so much detention.”

Tony gives him a look. “Detention?”

“Yeah, I skipped school to fight aliens. That’s not an excused absence.”

Tony laughs. It doesn’t really reach his eyes, but it’s better than nothing. “Fantastic. I made Ferris Bueller an Avenger.”

“Hey! You could write me a note! Like, ‘please excuse Peter Parker, he had an appointment in space.'”

Tony covers his eyes with one hand, but Peter can see that he’s smiling. “Pete, you little shit.”

And it almost feels like before, like nothing’s changed, until their smiles fade, and the silence is back, and all they can do is sit and listen to each other breathe.

 

They’re on the bridge when the transmission comes through.

Peter’s watching comet shards and distant stars pass by, clinging to memories of planetarium trips with Uncle Ben. He’s not scared. He loves space. Really, he does. It’s just that he can’t quite smother the part of him wants to go sit back in the cargo hold, away from the empty eyes of the universe.

Tony’s at the communications console across from Peter, twisting dials and swearing under his breath. A burst of static splits the air, clearer than the one that made them both jump out of their seats five minutes ago. This time, it almost sounds like a human voice. Peter’s skin crawls.

Something is very wrong.

Peter springs out of his chair and trips on his own feet on his way over to Tony. Tony’s eyes widen, and his arms shoot out just in time to catch Peter as he falls. They both stagger against the console. Peter’s trembling like he stuck his finger in an outlet.

“Sorry, sorry,” Peter mutters. Tony’s eyes are still blown wide.

“It’s okay.” Tony steadies him by the shoulders. A muscle works in his jaw, and then he opens his mouth like he wants to say more, but he’s cut off when the comm system crackles to life.

“ _-you copy? Stark, come in._ ”

Tony tenses. He slams his hand on the comm button, leaving the other resting on Peter’s shoulder. “Cap?”

“ _Tony, thank God._ ” It’s Cap’s voice, but without any of the steady determination Peter remembers from the airport or the warm confidence from those school PSAs. This Cap sounds rattled, desperate. Peter’s mouth goes dry.

By the way Tony’s eyes narrow, he’s noticed it too. “Steve, what’s going on?”

“ _It’s Thanos. He’s here._ ”

Tony goes ghastly pale.

Peter grips the edge of the console. Tony’s voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. “Bullshit.” It’s barely more than a whisper. “Bull _shit_ , Steve, what-”

“ _His fleet just entered orbit. Carol ran recon. It’s him.”_

Tony clenches a shaking hand into a fist, and for a moment his harsh breathing is the only sound on the bridge. Peter’s heart hammers against his ribcage.

Then Tony pivots to face Peter. His voice is tight. “Pete, get Quill. We need full throttle back to Earth.”

Tony turns back to the comm console with thunder in his eyes, and Peter runs.

 

Peter paces, counting the steps back and forth, and thinks.

The Benatar is vibrating with the force of the thrusters. He can feel it, all the way inside his bones and the pit of his stomach, where he first sensed something come apart back on Titan. Right before he died.

It was pure terror, then, different from anything he’s ever felt. Different from being trapped under concrete on homecoming night. That night was the weight of rock and rubble, sweat drenching his face, screams gouging his throat. A whirlwind of panic and pain, but it made him feel agonizingly alive, aware of the strength coiled in his limbs. Strength he could use.

Titan wasn’t pain. Titan started from the inside, where he felt himself dissolving, his vision going fuzzy, the world spinning sideways. Nothing to hold on to, nothing to hold on with. Everything was pulling away, pulling apart, and he was fading, melting like mist.

It scared the hell out of him then, and it scares the hell out of him now.

He stops pacing and leans over the back of a chair. They’re passing Saturn, and the rings glitter in the light of the distant sun. It reminds him of middle school, when he used to watch Star Trek with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, matching Captain Picard word-for-word on the opening voice-over.

He misses Ben. He misses them both, so much, and he aches for home. And then his palms start to sweat as he thinks of May, and Ned, and MJ, and what’s happened to them, if Ned and MJ ever made it to MOMA, if May saw Spider-Man fighting aliens on the news, if she called the police or the school or if she – if she –

The bridge door slides open, and Peter whirls around as Tony stalks through.

“I talked to Strange.” Tony’s looking out at the stars, not at Peter. “Cryptic son of a bitch. Didn’t say much. Won’t even portal us back, for whatever reason.” His exhale rattles. “He’s up to something. At least, he’d better be.”

Peter swallows. “Did he say how – I mean, if you guys killed Thanos, then why...”

“He seemed to think it was one of the stones. Reality warping or some shit. Thanos faked his own death.” Tony rubs his temples. “Did a damn good job.”

When Peter looks up, Tony’s studying him, fear and steely resolve battling in his eyes. “Pete, listen–”

“Mr. Stark, I wanna help.”

The words wrench themselves free from somewhere deep inside him, and Peter stands on shaky feet as they hang in the air.

Tony lifts a hand to cover his eyes. A moment passes before he sucks in a breath, and when he speaks his voice sounds crushed and hollow. “Peter.”

“I wanna help.” Peter swallows. It’s not like the last time, when he stowed away on the spaceship. The words came fast and easy, then, fueled by adrenaline and conviction and the new car smell of the Iron Spider suit, before he found out just how easily it could fall apart, how easily _he_ could fall apart.

His heart slams against his ribs. He’s going to do this. He’s Spider-Man. He’s Peter Parker. He’s May and Ben’s nephew, Ned and MJ’s best friend. He fights side-by-side with Tony.

He’s going to do this for them.

Tony uncovers his eyes and takes a step towards Peter, the weight of the world written in his expression.

“Peter.” His voice drops to a whisper. “You have to listen. This isn’t like before.” A chill runs down Peter’s spine. “Last time, he just wanted the stones. He didn’t care about us. This – this is different. This is personal. We brought everyone back, so now he’s coming for us. He wants us out of the picture. He’s coming to slaughter us.”

Peter’s shaking. Tony lets out a shuddering sigh, and then he pulls Peter into his arms, holding on tight. “Kid, please.” The words come out muffled. “I can’t – I can’t lose you again.”

Peter buries his face in Tony’s shoulder, and they’re both trembling, but he feels safe enough to let the quiet admission slip out. “I don’t wanna die.”

Tony holds him tighter. “Oh, kid.” His voice is rough. “You’re sitting this one out. It’s okay.”

For just a moment, Peter lets himself believe it, lets himself be held together, lets his eyes fall closed. And then he takes a deep breath and thinks of how it felt to watch Thanos drive a blade through Tony’s chest, and steps back to look Tony in the eyes.

“No. I’m gonna help.”

And he still can’t push away the tremors in his voice or the terror in his veins, but he stands as tall as he can in front of Tony, and he holds onto the memory of Ben’s smile, and the words rush out, quiet but sure.

“You need me. I can – I can do things no one else can.” He curls his fingers around his web-shooters. “And – and we lost before. He beat us. And you saw what – what he did.” A couple quick, steadying breaths. “It can’t happen again. I mean – all those people.” His voice cracks. “We gotta stop him. All of us, together. It’s our best shot.”

The silence is back. Tony’s looking down at the deck, pressing a hand to his chest, just above the nanotech housing unit. He’s breathing hard, shoulders heaving, and for a second Peter’s worried he’s going to pass out.

But he doesn’t. He straightens up, and Peter can see tears in his eyes.

“Pete.” He sounds wrecked. “You’re the bravest kid I’ve ever met. You know that?”

Peter’s heart is in his throat.

Tony presses a hand to his forehead. “You don’t have to do this.”

Peter closes his eyes, thinks of May. “I want to.”

He doesn’t want to die. But for them? He’d give anything.

“All right.”

It’s almost too quiet to hear, but Peter’s eyelids fly open. Tony’s drying his eyes on his sleeve. “All right, kid. Shit. You never give up, do you?”

He clears his throat a couple times, and then puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders again.

“We’re gonna get this son of a bitch.” His expression is set like steel.

Peter tries for a smile. It feels strange, and broken, but it’s there. “Yeah.”

He can see the Earth coming into view. It’s bright and blue and beautiful, and one of the holes inside him feels just a little fuller.

As they make their final approach and the _Benatar_ screams through the atmosphere, Peter stands next to Tony. Sunlight filters through the dusty windshield, glinting on the red of their suits. There’s terror and resolve, shaking and strength. He feels alive.

He’s Peter Parker. And he’s going to fight.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks so much for checking out this little one-shot! I’ve been reading MCU fic on AO3 for a while, but I’ve just now worked up the courage to make an account and post something of my own. I’m so excited to be here! Hope you enjoyed :)


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